All The Reasons Why
by nightwatchman707
Summary: A 5 Times fic with the almost mandatory 1 5 Times Tony Stark tried to commit suicide and one time someone gave him a reason not to. Potentially triggering, please avoid if you have issues with this theme. Also mentions of child abuse, non sexual. Cross posted to Ao3 under the username StarryIllusion.
1. Chapter 1

This is a 6 part series of 5 times in Tony's life where he has seriously attempted to kill himself and one time someone gave him a reason not to.

If this is likely to be TRIGGERING or upsetting for you then PLEASE DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER. Scenes of self harm and attempted suicide, consider yourselves warned.

Feedback is extremely welcome, I think I may actually be living off it but please no flaming over subject matter, you've had plenty of notice.

* * *

The first time was a result of way too much alcohol, too little sleep and the knowledge that he was never good enough. Not by his classmates standards and certainly not by his father's.

That day had been the most humiliating day of his life so far and there had been a few of those.

He had naively thought that his father would be impressed, would be proud, would be sober even. Some chance of that. He had shown up late, not that Tony had expected anything else and although he didn't look drunk the smell of alcohol lingered on his breath.

He had ignored Tony's enthusiastic attempts to show him Dummy's code and blueprints, brushed off his explanation of the AI program and how it was capable of learning and merely sneered at his efforts to get Dummy to wave at Howard.

He had held back tears, schooling his expression to one of indifference as Howard had berated him in front of his classmates, his tone mocking as he demanded to know why Tony had wasted his time making himself a "little helper" instead of creating something useful. "What, you need to build friends now?" The derisive words rang in Tony's ears as he stared at Dummy's battered form in the corner.

He was fixable, of course he was. Howard hadn't been particularly thorough in his attempt to destroy the bot, hadn't even really succeeded in breaking much more than Dummy's claw and outer casing. It was the initial impact of being shoved over that had taken Dummy offline. He had been far more focused on breaking his son than the robot.

Even so, Tony had put himself between his father and Dummy because he would be damned if the bots earliest memories consisted of being attacked while his creator refused to protect him. He had designed Dummy to learn and what would that have taught him?

He couldn't drag his eyes away from his damaged robot and he dare not even look at his own face. He knew his cheekbone was bruised and split from the force of his father's punch and his eyes were probably swollen from crying for so long. His ribs ached although he didn't think they were broken and he knew without looking that he had hand shaped bruises on his wrist and forearm where Howard had grabbed him.

He couldn't stop sobbing and a distant part of him knew that it was mostly shock. That didn't stop him from wobbling into the bathroom and grabbing up the razor, throwing it to the floor and crushing it under the heel of his shoe to release the blades from their plastic casing.

He sat on the floor with his back against Dummy's frame, sobbing his apologies even though he knew the bot was offline and couldn't hear him. Probably wouldn't understand him even if he could. It was for the best anyway. He didn't want Dummy to have to watch him die.

The blade was sharp and he barely felt the sting as he dragged it down the inside of his wrist. Vertical cuts, not horizontal. The better to bleed out quickly. He stared at his bleeding wrist and for a moment wished he hadn't cut so deep. It was hurting now and he was starting to shake and he knew he wouldn't be able to do his other wrist. Maybe one would be enough.

He leaned back on Dummy and cried harder, wondering what was so wrong with him that he couldn't even get killing himself right.

It was almost an hour later that he came back to awareness to the sound of his room-mate's frantic voice yelling at him. Demanding to know if he could hear him and what the hell had he done.

"Fuck! Come on, man, answer me! What the fuck, Tony, what the _actual fuck?!_"

The guy said fuck a lot, he thought distractedly. Or maybe he didn't usually, this was kind of a special circumstance. He supposed he would give the guy the benefit of the doubt, after all it wasn't every day you walked into your room and found your room-mate had committed suicide. He wondered if it still counted as suicide since he wasn't dead yet.

He could hear other voices now, attracted by the shouting and people were pulling at him, lying him down and something rough was being wrapped around his wrist. He drifted off for a moment and when he next woke it was to the sound of sirens and he could see the lights of the ambulance in his peripheral vision as he was bundled onto a stretcher and carried outside.

They would take him to hospital now. They would stitch his wrist and probably give him blood and inevitably a trip to psych would be on the cards. He wasn't going to die. This time.

He would do better next time.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm not entirely happy with this one but I'm now at the point where I'm combing over it again and again and getting nowhere but frustrated with it so I figured I would just let you guys have it and make of it what you will. Warning for alcohol abuse and attempted suicide though if you haven't figured out the latter by now... **

The funeral had been brutal. More so than he remembered his parents funeral being. He had held it together all through the service and through the burial. It was almost funny, his Scotch addled brain decided, that he had sat through all the speeches and the eulogy and watched the only person who had ever given a damn about him go into the ground with dry eyes and it was the wake, with all his well meaning relatives that had finally gotten the best of him.

He had been standing awkwardly by the drinks table, wondering whether he would be better off to just slip out quietly. He didn't know anyone after all, he had never met any of Jarvis's family. Had only intended to stay for the service, to pay his respects and say goodbye to the man who had essentially raised him but had been cajoled into staying for the wake by a couple of Jarvis's cousins.

He wished he had had the strength to refuse. He could feel the eyes on him. People looking at him, obviously wondering what he was doing there. Some of them clearly knew who he was and why he was there and they were apparent by their sympathetic glances and the whispers which stopped when they noticed him looking. He forced himself to relax. He was probably imagining it.

One woman seemed to make up her mind then, breaking off from the group she was standing with to approach him.

He tried not to tense up too visibly and forced a smile at her. He knew it probably looked more like a grimace.

"Hello."

"Hi," He replied hoarsely. God he sounded like a chain smoker. He cleared his throat with a self-conscious little cough and tried again.

"Sorry, hi."

"I'm Diane. Call me Di. Edwin is my cousin." She paused, looking slightly embarrassed. "Sorry, I mean he was. Edwin _was _my cousin."

"Oh." He gave himself a mental kick _'Oh? Is that seriously the best you can do? No wonder he never introduced you to any of these people, they must think you're mentally deficient!_

You're Anthony, aren't you? Anthony Stark? The little boy he used to look after? The one in the photographs." He had to hand it to the woman, she was persistent. Most would have given up on this conversation by now.

"Yeah, uh, I mean yes. Yes, Tony. Tony Stark." His mind flashed back to Jarvis's tireless efforts to impress good manners upon him and he hastily held out a hand. "Pleasure to meet you. I mean... not the circumstances but..." He trailed off, seriously considering stuffing an entire slice of Quiche in his mouth just to shut himself up.

Luckily Di seemed to be an easygoing sort because she just smiled and shook her head.

"Its alright, I know what you mean. Nice to meet you Tony. He talked about you a lot you know."

He blinked at her, momentarily taken aback. "He did?"

"Oh yes, often." She smiled.

"Wait, did you say, photographs?" His brain was starting to catch up now and he mentally ran back through their conversation.

"That's right. You're the little boy in the photo's aren't you? The ones on his mantle."

"I...I don't... I'm not sure. I don't ever remember him taking pictures." The thought of Jarvis having pictures of him somehow made him feel even worse for not having seen him before he died, for not having stayed in more regular contact.

"I'll show you." She offered. "I have them upstairs, you can keep them if you want." Before he could refuse she had disappeared upstairs and returned with two framed photographs which she handed to him.

They were indeed of him. In the first he was about 10 years old, sitting on his bedroom floor surrounded by bits of machinery and trailing wires and grinning up at the camera. He thought he vaguely remembered it being taken. Jarvis appearing in his doorway, demanding to know what on earth he was doing and couldn't he do it a little more tidily? The butler had then disappeared and reappeared shortly after with a camera, trying and failing to look stern and he took the shot and instructed his errant charge to "Pick up after yourself for goodness sake before your mother sees it or she'll be hanged for the both of us!"

He blinked back tears at the memory but lost the battle with them entirely when he turned the other over.

It showed a much younger Tony, perhaps six years old, boneless and clearly half asleep in Jarvis's arms. His head was drooping onto the butlers shoulder, eyes at half mast and obviously fighting sleep. Jarvis was laughing, his expression both fond and slightly exasperated as he cradled the child against him and Tony felt tears stream down his cheeks. He had a faint recollection of Jarvis pacing the lounge on many a night with him in his arms, struggling to stay awake as the rhythm of his steps lulled him relentlessly into sleep.

He blinked back the tears that were threatening and tried to smile at the woman. She nodded gently in sympathy.

"I'm going to go see if anyone needs any more drinks, give you a moment. Keep the pictures." She told him firmly.

He nodded back and sank down onto the bottom step and tried to compose himself. He stared down at the photos in his lap. They looked like perfectly normal family snaps. No one would have guessed that he was a member of the household staff. He looked like any father trying to get his kid to sleep. He wondered idly who had taken it. Not his parents, certainly, they had never approved of him 'coddling' the boy. Probably one of the other staff.

Suddenly he couldn't stay sitting there any longer. He stood up, grabbed his jacket from the pile in the hallway and headed for the door. He would send Diane a note to thank her for the pictures, he decided and to apologise for his hasty exit.

He felt numb by the time he returned to his apartment. It was a nice apartment. Penthouse. Way better than living on campus at MIT like he had his first year. He tamped down the sudden urge to trash the place and instead moved to the kitchen and poured himself a generous helping of Whisky.

He didn't much care for the taste of the stuff but he liked the way it burned his throat going down.

It was 2 hours and most of the bottle later when he noticed the missed call on his phone from Rhodey. He had left him a message earlier, bailing on their plans and simply telling him he had a funeral to go to. He figured his friend was probably worried and he really ought to call him back but he didn't feel he had had anywhere near enough to drink to have that conversation with him.

Another hour and half a bottle later he was well and truly wasted, pretty sure he had more alcohol than blood in his veins and attempting to dial Rhodey's number on a phone that he was currently seeing three of. The voice that answered was decidedly not Rhodey. Rhodey wasn't a girl last time he checked, at least he was 95% sure he wasn't.

"S'Rhodey there?" He slurred a little despite his best attempts not to but to her credit the girl didn't sound disgusted at being drunk called at...Oh _fuck,_was that actually the time? Jesus, he was such a shitty friend.

He didn't have any more time to reconsider his decision to call though because Rhodey's voice was coming on the line.

"Is that Tony? For fuck sake, he couldn't have called earlier?! Tony? That you, man?"

"Yeah." He croaked, hating how weak his voice suddenly sounded.

"Dude! Seriously, you leave me a message like that and then don't call me back for hours, I was worried, man! Not cool!"

"Sorry..." His voice wobbled and shit now he was crying again and he just hoped Rhodey couldn't hear his breath hitching.

He obviously could though because his voice softened a little as he asked, "Hey, are you okay? You been drinking?"

"No." He whispered.

"No what? No, you're not okay or no, you haven't been drinking and if you say the second one, I'm calling bullshit."

"Not okay." He forced out shakily. "Really fucking not okay."

There was a brief silence on the line before Rhodey responded.

"Okay, stay there, I'm coming over."

The line went dead and Tony stared at it for a moment before sinking back onto the sofa with the bottle and taking another swig, grimacing at the taste. Logically he knew he was well on his way to alcohol poisoning but part of him couldn't help thinking it would be really nice to just go to sleep and not ever have to wake up. He took another long swallow.

He was barely even conscious when Rhodey arrived and lifted him off the floor, demanding to know how much he had had and looking slightly horrified when Tony gestured vaguely at the empty bottles in lieu of an answer.

The next few hours were a blur as he drifted in and out. He remembered waking up vomiting once, Rhodey holding a bucket for him and trying to get him to drink water before he passed out again to the sound of Rhodey calling for an ambulance.

He was hazily aware of Rhodey pulling him into his lap and holding him as he cried and mumbled slurred apologies that he was fairly sure were incomprehensible. The rocking was nice though so he stayed there, not that he thought he could have moved anyway.

When he next woke it was to the sterile looking white walls of a hospital room. He turned his head to the side and was irrationally relieved to see Rhodey sitting there. He probably shouldn't be. This was way, way up there in the list of stupid reckless shit he had done and lets face it the guy was probably gearing up to pitch a fit but still he was glad of the familiar face.

Thankfully Rhodey didn't seem inclined towards chewing him out, at least not right now.

"Hey, there. You awake?" He asked, oddly gentle.

"Hi." Tony croaked back. Rhodey stood and reached over for a cup on the nightstand before helping him lift his head enough to take a few ice chips, waiting for it to melt on his tongue.

"You seriously scared the shit out of me, man." Rhodey spoke again and Tony noticed for the first time how tired and freaked out he looked.

"You had alcohol poisoning. They pumped your stomach. Another hour and you could've died!" His voice was slightly higher pitched than usual and it was that more than his words that brought it home to Tony just how close he had come.

"Sorry." He whispered.

Rhodey blew out a breath and looked him straight in the eyes. "I don't ever want to see that again, do you get me? You...you call me, Tony, if it ever gets that bad again I want you to call me and don't you dare touch a single drink until I get there." His voice broke at the end and guilt swamped Tony for putting him through this. He shouldn't have called.

"Promise me!" Rhodey's voice cracked like a whip, making him jump a little. "Look, I get it, alright, I saw the photos but... just promise me, okay?"

"I promise." He wasn't sure why he said it. He had absolutely no intention of keeping that promise but he would have said anything to get that look off his friend's face.

"Good." Rhodey sounded relieved and Tony felt another little pang of guilt at lying to him. "You owe me big time man. There was puke."

"I distinctly remember getting it in the bucket." He protested.

"Yeah, the second time!"

**Thank you all for reading and those of you who have added this to your favourites or alerts, you're awesome and to Guest who reviewed, thank you for taking the time to comment and don't worry, I have no pairings in mind for this fic as such. Not unless you really squint. :)**

**I would love, hug and snuggle reviews so pretty please? **


	3. Chapter 3

Warning for suicide attempt (if this is a trigger, seriously, what are you still doing here?)  
Unbetaed, feedback and comments are adored and cherished.  
Steve/Tony if you squint. Okay maybe not that much squinting.

Sorry this took so long, I'm a horrible updater and AoU messed me up! Seriously, as if I wasn't bad enough before, now everything I write turns into the Tony and Jarvis show.

Also I am SORRY about the formatting and whacked out spacing. It was this or a solid wall of text. I cannot get it to do paragraphs, it won't have it and I'm sick of messing with it.

* * *

"_What use are you if you can't follow directions in the field? Worse than useless, Stark, you're a liability!" _

The words rang in his ears as he stormed down to the workshop, fuming. What the hell did Steve know! If he had followed orders that man would be dead. As it was, there was no way he could have reached the car before the spiderbot did. Did Steve even realise how many LEGS those things had? All he did was cut the casualty list from 64 to 63.

By the time he entered the workshop his fury was beginning to subside, replaced by the familiar exhaustion and trembling of a post battle crash when the adrenaline inevitably wore off.

He sank onto the workbench before his legs gave out on him and accepted the smoothie that Dummy handed him with a suspicious sniff before looking up at Jarvis' nearest sensor array for confirmation.

"It is safe to drink sir although perhaps...inadvisable."

"Not toxic though?" He checked.

"No, sir."

He took a tentative sip and nearly gagged.

"Wha... Jarvis, what did he PUT in this?"

"I believe I would be acting in Dummy's best interests to withhold that information."

Tony blinked at him a few times before nodding. "Yeah, probably for the best. Thanks for the warning."

"You are welcome, sir. If I may? Perhaps you should consider eating something of the non liquid variety?"

He thought about it for a moment before deciding that his churning stomach probably couldn't handle it right now.

"Maybe in a while, J. For now just put us in lockdown okay."

Jarvis didn't reply but did as he asked, locking down the workshop and raising the temperature a few degrees before Tony even noticed he was shivering.

He pulled up his latest project files for Stark industries and tried his best to concentrate. His focus was broken though by the sound of someone pounding insistently on the door. He forced himself not to look round. He couldn't ignore it for long though and eventually sat upright, scrubbing his hands through his hair.

His heart sank when he saw Steve standing there looking absolutely furious.

"Open this door, Tony!"

"Sir, your blood pressure and heart rate are becoming cause for concern." Jarvis spoke up worriedly.

Tony rubbed absently at the wristband he always wore during battles and sometimes just from day to day that allowed Jarvis to monitor his vitals and gave his AI what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It felt more like a grimace.

"Let him in, J. Might as well get this over with."

Jarvis made a familiar staticky sound of disapproval as he slid the doors open, almost making Tony smile at the sheer volume of attitude he managed to convey. As a baby AI, Jarvis had made frequent and creative use of white noise to express himself when he didn't have the words to get his point across.

He hadn't done that in years but still sometimes used it in lieu of sighing or even as an insult when the occasion merited it.

His attention was drawn away from Jarvis as Steve marched in, scowl on his face.

"So this is what you do, huh? Don't you think you should be helping with the clean up out there?"

Tony swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the dull ache in his chest getting worse and he wondered idly if the reactor had taken more damage than he had initially thought.

"I can't right now, Cap." He managed, throat tight. "Things to do."

Steve's face darkened, lips pressing into a thin line as he visibly tried to calm himself.

"Are you serious right now?" He demanded. "I have to go and visit an elderly couple and apologise for the fact that they just lost their son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter because my team can't follow orders and you're sitting there telling me that you're too damn BUSY to come and help with the clean up efforts!"

Tony was about to snap back when he realised that he couldn't force words out through the tightness in his chest. It took him a few more seconds to recognise the symptoms of an oncoming panic attack and he tried to force himself to breathe slowly.

Steve took a step forward and for a moment Tony thought Steve was about to shake him but he was stopped by Jarvis' sharp intervention.

"Captain Rogers, I must insist that you calm down and step away from sir."

"Stay out of this, Jarvis." Steve warned. "I'm not going to hurt him but I need him to understand..."

"I will not allow you to distress him any further." The A.I.'s tone was final and Steve's face twisted in contempt for a moment before he replied.

"Fine, stay down here and hide behind your robots. God forbid you actually take some responsibility for your actions." With that, Steve turned and stormed out of the workshop.

Tony sank down onto the floor, resting his back against his workbench and concentrated on breathing in time with Jarvis's insistent coaching. He felt the panic finally starting to recede and he lowered his head until his forehead was resting on his knees, ignoring the damp patches his tears were making on his jeans and blocking out everything but the glow of the reactor under his shirt, the tentative touch of Dummy and You's claws against his back as they tugged on his clothing in concern and Jarvis's voice reassuring him that he was all right, the arc reactor was all right, everything was _fine._

He sat there for a few more minutes, letting himself calm down before lifting his head.

"The reactor?" He asked hoarsely.

"Undamaged." Jarvis informed him. "There is significant bruising and swelling around the casing which is most likely causing the pain and sensation of pressure that I _know_ you are experiencing... Sir, please do not do insult us both by attempting to lie to me."

Tony closed his mouth.

He pulled himself upright, using the bench for support and weaved his way towards the door.

"Sir?" Jarvis sounded confused. "Sir I must insist that you sit down. You are in no condition to be moving around."

He ignored the AI in favour of grappling with the cupboard door that was currently keeping him away from his scotch and finally glared up at the ceiling when he realised that it was electronically sealed.

"I swear to God, Jarvis..."

"I will not permit you to drink with a concussion, sir"

"Fucking...God damn you!" He screamed, throwing the screwdriver he had been using to try and pry the door open at Jarvis's nearest camera. "You of all fucking people! For Christ's sake, J, can't you just be on my side?"

"I am always on your side."

The calm statement of fact had him sliding down the door to sit on the floor again as the tears made a reappearance. He knew the truth of it, of course. He had just really needed to hear it. Even Clint hadn't spoken to him on the way back. Not a single one of them had so much as looked at him, maintaining an icy, furious silence. Even when he had tried to hand Bruce another blanket, his team mate had simply pushed his hand away and joined the others up the front.

He pulled in an unsteady breath, wiping at his cheeks and already feeling foolish for his outburst at Jarvis.

"I know, buddy. I know you are."

It was hours before he moved, back and legs stiff from sitting on the floor for so long and the movement pulled painfully at the long cut on his upper leg from where a jagged piece of the suit had sliced it. He poked tentatively at it and decided it wasn't deep enough to need stitches.

He was surprised no one had been down yet, even if only to yell at him. Bruce was usually pretty firm about getting injuries looked at, no matter how minor they were or how monumentally stupid the team mate in question had been while getting them. But then, he reminded himself, Steve had seen the wound when he had been in the workshop before. He had to have seen it, there was far too much blood on Tony's jeans for him to have missed it and he hadn't said anything.

Steve.

Normally such a mother hen when one of them was injured. It was the most aggravating thing in the world most of the time, especially when he teamed up with Jarvis and he had both of them bitching at him. What he wouldn't give to be on the receiving end of it now.

He raked his hands through his hair in frustration, berating himself inwardly for acting like a child. This was stupid for fucks sake. He was being ridiculous, he knew it. Grown men did not hide in basement workshops for hours on end because their team mates wouldn't talk to them. Grown men didn't have panic attacks over an argument that wasn't even physical and get themselves into such a state that their AI had to intervene on their behalf. And they sure as fuck didn't scream and throw screwdrivers at the aforementioned AI for not letting him drink with a concussion.

Tony finally pulled himself upright and wobbled his way over to the bathroom, tugging gently on You's claws as the bot clicked them anxiously at him and running light fingers over the holotable as he passed it. He smiled a little when it lit up at his touch, following his fingers with a trail of light; Jarvis, reaching out to him in the only way he knew how.

Closing the door behind him he stared into the mirror. His reflection stared back at him, hollow eyed and tired. Skin so pale it was almost ashen. He looked exhausted.

He looked dead.

A shudder ran through his body and he pushed away the morbid thought. He had enough nightmare material without comparing himself to a corpse.

Averting his eyes from his reflection he pulled open the cabinet, not wanting to look at his own face any longer. He pulled out a bottle of painkillers and shook five into his palm, swallowing them dry before easing himself down onto the couch in the corner.

He considered for a moment and then tipped a few more into his hand before thinking 'fuck it' and tossing back the rest of the remaining pills in the bottle.

"Sir, that dosage is not advisable!" He felt a slight pang of guilt at the alarm in his AI's voice.

Poor Jarvis. He didn't deserve to witness this.

"Sorry, baby." He murmured, closing his eyes.

Upstairs, an hour later, the other avengers were finally starting to unwind a little and calm down after the adrenaline of the battle.

With the exception of Thor, who had gone to check on Jane in the aftermath of the destruction, they were all gathered around the table.

"I feel kind of bad." Steve admitted, resting his chin in his hand. "I honestly was this close to hitting him. Jarvis actually threw me out."

"Seriously?" Clint sat up a little straighter. "Like he flat out told you to get out?"

"Pretty much." Steve confirmed wearily. "Told me to get away from him because I was upsetting him."

"The people in that car got a bit worse than _upset!_" Clint snapped indignantly. "I'll fucking upset him!" He started to rise from his seat before Natasha grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

"I'm angry with him too." She said calmly. "But in hindsight I don't think he could've gotten to them in time. Maybe he really was just going for the one he knew he could save."

"Even so. We need to rely on him to have our backs in a battle and if he's not where he's supposed to be..." Bruce finally chimed in. He looked exhausted and haggard, the transformation clearly having taken its toll.

Steve sighed. "I shouldn't have lost it like that with him though. I'm supposed to be the leader here and I went way over the line. I called him useless and a liability, nearly hit him and then left him down there to deal with his own injuries. What kind of a leader does that?"

"A human one." Natasha said firmly. "You're just a person, Steve, we all lose our tempers from time to time and lets face it, Stark pushes your buttons at the best of times."

"Was he injured then?" Bruce interjected, frowning slightly.

Steve nodded. "I don't think its too bad, he was walking okay but his jeans were bloody. Just a cut I think."

Bruce opened him mouth to respond but was cut off by a panicked sounding Jarvis.

"Sir requires immediate medical intervention in the workshop. All areas are now accessible. Please hurry."

The other Avengers were up and moving almost before he had finished speaking.

"What happened, Jarvis?" Natasha demanded as the elevator descended at a speed Steve was sure it shouldn't be capable of.

"Sir has exceeded the safe dosage of painkillers and lost consciousness. I am unable to rouse him and his vitals are destabilising."

"How many did he take? Was it deliberate?"

Silence.

"Jarvis?!"

"I am prohibited from supplying that information!" If Steve had ever doubted Jarvis was sentient, those doubts were gone in that moment. The AI sounded positively frantic, his frustration at his protocols obvious.

Clint swore colourfully as he spotted Tony slumped across his couch and made a beeline out of the elevator and across the room to him.

Steve dropped down next to him, hands immediately fumbling for a pulse, his own heart almost stopping when he couldn't find one. He forced himself to calm down and pressed his fingers harder under Tony's jaw until he felt it throbbing sluggishly. He grabbed Tony by the shoulders and shook him hard until Bruce pushed him away and lifted Tony's eyelids to check his pupils.

"Stark! Stark, wake up! On your feet, Avenger!" Even the booming military tone didn't seem to penetrate although Tony did screw his eyes up and mumble something incomprehensible.

"God Damn, Jarvis, why didn't you call us earlier!"

"Don'.. mad at him..." Tony slurred from the couch, making Steve's eyes snap back to him

"Stark?"

"No...not his fault. Made sure...Made sure he couldn't. M'sorry, baby..." Steve was fairly sure the last was directed at Jarvis who didn't respond, presumably busy talking to the paramedics whom he was directing down to the workshop.

Bruce made a strangled noise and pushed himself up from the ground.

"Bruce?" Steve sounded alarmed.

"Hulk room. Sorry." He managed to force out as he staggered towards the stairs, his skin already an alarming shade of green. Steve considered briefly whether someone ought to go with him but his attention was drawn back to Tony when he realised the other man had lost consciousness again.

Clint leaned over and slapped his cheek lightly. "Stay awake, Tony! Don't go back to sleep! You gotta talk to me, buddy, tell me what you took."

"All of em!" Tony let out a mirthless slurred giggle. "Took all the pills!"

Natasha stood up and moved quickly into the bathroom. She yanked open the cabinet and rummaged through it. "Which ones, Jarvis? Was it these?" She held up an empty bottle.

"How many did he take?" A distressed burst of static was her only answer and she cursed violently in Russian. "Right of course you can't tell me."

She ran back out into the workshop and held out the bottle to one of the medics who was currently on his knees beside Tony, strapping an oxygen mask over his face.

"I think this is what he took. I don't know how... wait, Jarvis? How much was in this bottle yesterday?"

The answer came immediately and Jarvis sounded relieved to be of help as he replied.

"That bottle was slightly more than half full yesterday, Agent Romanoff."

The medic jumped nearly a foot in the air at the disembodied voice but recovered quickly.

"Well, Mr Stark when you do something you certainly don't do it in half measures. He's going to have to come with us to hospital. One of you can ride in the ambulance, anyone else will have to follow."

He and his partner hoisted Tony efficiently onto a stretcher and made for the elevator.

"Steve, you go with him, I'll check on Bruce then Clint and I can follow." Natasha seemed to be swiftly taking control of the situation and Steve couldn't help but be glad of it. He felt numb with shock and the knowledge that one of his team had been taking his own life while they sat upstairs drinking cocoa.

He offered Natasha a dazed nod and followed them into the elevator, forcing himself not to be sick as it rocketed upwards.

He threw up twice in the ambulance. Thankfully Tony wasn't awake to see it but it still made him feel even guiltier.

He had answered as many of their questions about Tony's medical history as he could and eventually just handed the woman his phone and had her talk to Jarvis who filled in the many gaps.

By the time Clint, Natasha and an extremely pale, shaky Bruce arrived Steve felt ready to climb the walls. Natasha gripped his hand firmly, helping to still the trembles and leaned up against his shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault." She murmured.

"It was." He replied, having to force the words past the lump in his throat. "I drove him to this. A gibbering idiot could have seen that he wasn't okay. Jarvis tried to tell me but I..." He broke off, holding back a sob.

Bruce shook his head tiredly. "Tony hasn't been particularly stable, Steve, not for a long time. This wasn't his first attempt."

Three heads lifted in unison to stare at him and he shrugged looking uneasy; he wondered a little too late whether he should have betrayed that confidence but supposed that they needed to know. After all it threw this latest attempt into a new light.

"He told me. One night when we were down in the lab. We were talking about the other guy. About how I tried to...well you know. He said he got it. When I pushed he told me that he'd tried too. Said he got low and just snapped. Wanted an end to it. He tried twice. Once when he was a teenager and again after he lost someone. He wouldn't say who, just that it wasn't his parents."

Bruce shifted uncomfortably at the incredulous stares directed at him.

"Look, it was a long time ago from what he said. I swear if I had thought he might be a danger to himself I'd have said something! It's not like I haven't been there, I get what it's like to want out. If I'd known he was that low..."

"Christ, Bruce! Even if he wasn't, don't you think that's something I needed to know?" Steve looked furious and Bruce instantly felt himself becoming defensive.

"Why?! Why the hell do you think you have the right to know... Sorry can we help you?" He stopped his tirade and put on a polite tone with sheer force of will as he addressed the nurse who was standing a few feet away looking slightly starstruck.

"Um...You all came in with Mr Stark?"

Tony woke slowly to the sound of voices both loud and faraway.

"...can't stay long, he should be resting...appointment with the psychiatric team."

He forced his eyes open but they felt so heavy that after a few seconds he just let them slip closed again, drifting back off. The next time he came to, it was to the unfamiliar sensation of fingers stroking through his hair. It was nice, reassuring and he wondered vaguely who it was. Not Pepper, she had longer nails. Rhodey wasn't the hair petting type.

He dragged his eyelids upwards with more determination than it usually took to drag Dum-E into an upgrade station and squinted. Oh. Well it was official. He had failed and the price of his failure was going to be enduring Cap's kicked puppy face for the foreseeable future.

Maybe he could just go back to sleep for a little while.

"Tony?!"

Nope, okay, sleep not an option then.

"Tony are you awake? I think he's awake." The last directed over his shoulder to the other Avengers.

The others moved into his field of vision, swimming nauseatingly into focus and Bruce leaned over to peer at his eyes.

"Hey, Tony. You with us?"

He blinked a few times before trying to speak; his mouth was dry and his throat felt like it had been sandpapered.

Bruce picked up a cup of half melted ice chips from beside the bed and helped him to swallow a few of them.

"Better?"

"Yeah." He croaked.

They sat, or laid in Tony's case, in awkward silence for several minutes before Steve finally spoke up.

"For God's sake, why?"

"Steve." Natasha cautioned.

Tony didn't respond, just stared intently at the opposite wall.

"Why, Tony?! Why the hell did you do it?"

"Why do you care?!" Tony burst out, finally.

For a moment Steve was left speechless. How could he even think that. They were team mates; they were _friends_! Did he seriously think that they didn't even care?

Tony was shaking now, his cheeks flushed and his eyes suspiciously bright. The hand returned to his hair and he felt tears starting to slide down his temples. The bed dipped slightly as Clint and Bruce sat down on the edges. Another hand gripped his tightly. Natasha.

"We care." She told him firmly.


End file.
